Rudiments of a Spiritual Life
by perihelion
Summary: “Always.” The intensity of the declaration surprises her at first, but it feels right. She thinks of how this man is her soul-mate, the one person she is to spend the rest of eternity with and suddenly ‘always’ seems inadequate. AU/AH...sort of.


**Author's Note:** My first Twilight fanfic, and hopefully not my last if I can perhaps come up with something worth writing. I'd love for any prompts or ideas from readers if you enjoy this story. Also, this was unbeta'd so let me know if you find any mistakes. Thank you for reading!

*

_For life is eternal and love is immortal; and death is only a horizon; and a horizon is nothing save the limit of our sight._ – Rossiter Raymond

She remembers a blaring horn and the unyielding pressure of metal around her fragile body. If she strains hard enough, she thinks she can hear the distant scream of sirens or maybe it's the clamor of the crowd around her. Her senses are muted, dulled, as her life slowly slips away. She can feel that, too. It's as though the threads tying her soul to this life are fraying, then snapping one by one. She watches on with morbid fascination as the seventeen years worth of memories she's created slowly unravel, leaving her feeling naked and alone. She shivers as she chokes back blood and tears.

She remembers darkness.

*

When Bella's eyelids finally flutter open, she exhales loudly. It takes a few minutes for her eyes to adjust to the dim light above where she's laying and when they finally do, she blinks again in confusion. The first thought that comes to mind is that this isn't a hospital. She struggles to sit up as she fights against the dull ache in her limbs. There are four walls made of heavy stone surrounding her though she can't quite see the far walls in the remaining darkness and the room smells of rich, musky earth.

Bella stumbles a bit as she stands, like she's walking for the first time, and notices the low ceiling only about foot above her head. Wooden beams meet to make an arc in the middle of the room where the ceiling is a little bit higher and she moves towards the center on instinct, towards the brightest light. Her mind is running in thousands of directions and she's trying desperately to figure out where she is.

Her gut tells her the answer before her mind can catch up.

"Oh no," she moans. "I'm dead, aren't I?"

There's a grim chuckle behind her and she trips on her feet as she spins to see where the noise came from.

"Dead, deceased, departed. Whatever you'd like to call it," the gravelly voice says. "But yes, you are no longer amongst the living."

Bella squints into the darkness towards the far wall and makes out a shadow and then the outline of a door beside it.

"Who are you?" she calls back, her voice shaking in trepidation.

The man laughs again, this time in amusement. "Come now, child," he replies, his tone laced with laughter. "Come forward and seek me out."

Bella's legs move of their own accord and she finds herself shuffling towards the darkness. Another light goes on and suddenly instead of the black shadow she had seen, there is a man sitting on an old, rickety chair beside a thick, wooden door. The man is older, with graying hair and a face lined with wrinkles. His blue eyes have a depth that Bella's never seen before – an understanding and comforting gaze but with an undercurrent of despair. He's haunted; he's seen too many tragedies, too many of these dead souls – some of them much younger than Bella's seventeen years. It hurts to look him in the eyes, like she can feel the weight of his duty's burdens. Yet she feels slightly reassured by his presence and she moves closer to him, to see if he can give her some answers.

"Tell me where I am," she pleads as she stops five feet from the chair.

The man shrugs and Bella is infuriated. "Can't you tell me?" she demands. She doesn't like the idea of not knowing where she is and why she's there. She feels uneasy about the whole situation and also disheartened because she knows she's dead.

"You are nowhere," he says.

"But –"

"The more important question should be, 'Where am I going?'" he interrupts.

Bella stares at him, one hand on her cocked hip. She waits for him to continue but when she is met with only silence, she sighs in frustration. "Where am I going?"

She wonders if this is some sort of purgatory, if she's stuck in limbo with this exasperating man until it's decided where she's supposed to end up. Until now, she's never believed in heaven or hell and she wonders if that lack of faith will condemn her for eternity. She knew she should have gone with Renee when her mother decided one day to start going to church again. That particular phase of her mother's life only lasted a few weeks, but she thinks now that maybe it would've been worth something in terms of payment into heaven.

"Am I going to hell?" she whispers, suddenly afraid of what's behind the door that the man appears to be guarding.

The man laughs, a laugh that comes straight from his belly, and Bella is somewhat insulted that he thinks her fears are funny.

"You don't have to worry, sweetheart," the man drawls. "There is no hell here."

She stares at him in confusion. "Heaven?"

The man shakes his head. "Don't tell me you believe in that nonsense anyway."

Bella is at a loss for words. "I…well…uh…no? Not really," she finally clarifies. "But I still don't understand…are you an angel?"

"Not quite," the man scoffs. "I don't have a halo or wings, do I?"

Bella shrugs. "I wouldn't know what an angel looks like anyway," she admits.

"I'm more of…a guard, you could say. The keeper of keys."

The guard leans back in his chair, tiling it against the wall, and she wonders how it doesn't break beneath the weight. He looks at her for a few minutes in silence, like he's evaluating her, judging her. He tips forward again and there's a loud clatter as the front legs of the chair fall to the floor. He jerks his head towards the door. "You want to know what's behind that door?" he whispers conspiratorially.

"Yes," Bella huffs in frustration.

He grins, all teeth and an upper quirk of the lip, before he says, "That's eternity."

Bella growls as the man continues to irritate her. "Will you stop with the damn subtleties and tell me what is going on? And who _are_ you?"

He leans back again against the wall and Bella feels small beneath his calculating gaze. "You used to be a sweet, quiet girl when you were alive," he says.

She snorts. "Yeah, well, guess being dead changes people a bit. It doesn't help that there's this annoying old man who refuses to tell me exactly where I'm supposed to be going now that I'm dead."

"Well that takes out all the fun in guessing." He laughs again and runs a hand through his short-cropped white hair.

"Am I going to be here for a while?" Bella asks. She folds her legs beneath her and sits on the ground when the man nods in affirmation. "Will you at least tell me your name?" she questions, this time without any hint of annoyance.

"You can call me Peter."

*

When she really stops to think about all that's happened, Bella is struck by an overwhelming sense of sadness. She gasps and her hand flies to her mouth as her eyes begin to water.

"Oh no, oh no," she whimpers. She looks up at Peter through her tears. "What's going to happen to Renee and…_Charlie_? Oh god, I just moved in with him and now I'm _gone_," she wails.

Peter looks on unfazed; he's used to these revelations, to these tears and screams for loved ones that these souls will never see again.

Bella feels crippled by her grief as she thinks once more of her erratic, hare-brained mother and her quiet but devoted father. She thinks of gossiping Jessica and loyal Mike, and the reserved Angela; people she's only known for a few short weeks but who will surely be devastated by her absence. She can't imagine the guilt Tyler must feel, can remember seeing the scared look in his eyes when he saw her laying lifeless between his van and her truck. She kicks and claws at the ground, angry now that her life has been taken so early, so brutally. She won't get her first kiss or her first boyfriend. She died a _virgin_. Bella is furious.

"This is the anger phase," Peter says casually, as he watches with feigned interest. "I'm quite surprised you went right through denial," he tacks on as an afterthought.

Bella dry-heaves, interrupting her cries and screams. But then she flies at the door beside Peter in a rage, banging and kicking for a few minutes until she collapses to the floor next to his chair. Peter turns to face her and runs his fingers through her long tresses, occasionally rubbing her scalp in a calming manner when she buries her face in the robes around his knees.

"Quiet now, child. Be calm."

She's breathing heavily and she has snot and tears all over her face. Peter shushes her and wipes her face with the hem of his robe. He murmurs quiet reassurances as she hiccups through the last of her tears.

"I'm sorry," she mumbles, her face flushed in embarrassment.

"It's quite all right," Peter replies. "I've seen worse."

"What will happen to my parents?" she croaks as her eyes begin to water again.

Peter sighs heavily. "They will mourn you, certainly. But they will find the strength to move on, as should you. They will never forget you, sweet Isabella, if that's what you're worried about. No, they will carry you with them wherever you go. And maybe, one day, you can see them again."

It's those words that finally allow Bella to relax. She still isn't quite sure what's going on, but as long as she knows that her parents will be okay, that she might see them some day, she feels herself calm down. She slumps against the wall with her head resting on Peter's thigh as exhaustion sweeps through her body.

"Am I going to an afterlife?" she wonders out loud when she thinks of reuniting with them.

Peter smiles down at her. "Yes," he says, finally providing her with an answer.

"What is it like?" she asks with childish wonderment, her eyes falling on the locked door.

"I don't know," Peter confesses. "I'm only the gate-keeper."

"I'm sorry," she apologizes again.

"For what?"

"Because you're stuck here for an eternity. You have to watch people like me throw tantrums and deny being dead, and then watch as they pass onto another world. That isn't very fair."

"I lived a long, happy life, Isabella," Peter replies. "I'm quite content where I am. I don't know much of what the afterlife contains, but I do know that you will be very happy for a very long time."

"How can I be happy when I'm alone?" she mutters pathetically.

Peter looks reminiscent before he answers. "It is said that there are always two souls destined for one another. The concept of kindred spirits, soul-mates, if you will. The afterlife is about second chances, about being given what you were denied during your life. They say that you meet your soul-mate in the afterlife, that you're given that opportunity to feel what it's like to have your entire being so wholly consumed by another."

"What if you had been living at the same time as your soul-mate and met them in person? What would have happened when you did die?"

Even the mere thought of being separated from her soul-mate makes her chest ache in ways she's never felt before, like her heart is physically breaking.

"Look at you," Peter says, motioning his hand towards Bella. "You can't even stand the idea of that happening. If you had met your soul-mate in person and you had died, you know that they will follow you soon after. You just wait in purgatory until they come and you're reunited."

Bella stares at Peter in horror. "You mean I have to wait here with you until my soul-mate dies?"

"Or your soul-mate has been waiting for you."

She winces and wonders how long it will be, or has been. Has her soul-mate been stuck in a similar four-walled purgatory prison with another Peter waiting for her arrival?

"How will I know it's time to be reunited?"

"You will feel it," Peter reassures her. "If your other half has been waiting for you, it might take a while until they feel your presence. Some soul-mates die with decades, centuries of years between them and it takes a while for that connection to reach one another."

"It could take centuries?" Bella screeches, looking incredulous at the gate-keeper.

"Time passes differently here. You may not know it, but it has been five days since you were killed." Bella's eyes widen in shock. It only felt like hours since she first arrived and she almost can't believe it.

Bella feels immense pity for whoever has to spend decades trapped with Peter. It's not that she doesn't enjoy his company, or that she won't miss him when she's gone, but it's hard not to feel agitated in his presence. Perhaps it's her conscience informing her of its unrest without her soul-mate, that maybe it knows she's waiting to be reunited with the man who will become her entire world.

Thinking of this man brings a warmth to her body that she has yet to experience; a flutter to her heart, a static charge running like a livewire through her veins. She feels the threads that once held her to her past life begin to weave once more, anticipating the arrival of the soul that she will be bound to for eternity. She throws a quick glance at Peter and he's smiling at her fondly with an almost fatherly pride in his eyes.

"You're quick," he says gruffly. "One of the easiest souls I've ever had the pleasure of working with."

Bella offers him a shy smile and once again feels her eyes brim with tears. "I'm sorry for giving you such a hard time. Thank you for helping me with this transition," she says sincerely.

"You're a great kid. You will make your soul-mate very happy."

With that, Peter stands and pulls a large, brass key from the folds of his robes. He gently slides it into the lock and turns the key, pulling the door open in one swift motion. Bella can feel herself being dragged to her feet and she stands in the threshold of the door before throwing her arms around Peter in a hug. He pats her back and then shoos her over the threshold, closing the door behind her with one final smile.

*

Bella stares at the door for a few more moments until she hears someone clear their throat. She turns quickly and stumbles once more at the movement. But before her face makes its introductions with the new floor, warm hands wrap around her waist. For a couple of seconds, Bella is suspended in the air, her face inches from the stone floor. The hands pull her back and she steadies herself by placing her own hands on the forearms of her savior. When she looks up (and she's quite suddenly aware of how tall this person actually is) to thank whoever saved her, her words of gratitude are caught in her throat.

The most vivid green eyes are staring back at her with a wide-eyed curiosity and she's so dazzled by their brilliance that it takes a few more minutes of silent staring before she can look at the rest of him. On top of his head is a mop of unruly hair in what Bella can only describe as bronze in color. _Sex hair_, Bella immediately thinks. One of his hands slips from her waist and runs through the locks in embarrassment at her scrutiny and Bella can now see why his hair is so out of control. She blushes at being caught ogling him, but glances up through lowered lashes at the crooked grin that he's now sporting.

"You are beautiful," he says, and Bella almost swoons because his voice is like soft velvet.

"So are you," she murmurs and she's pretty sure her face is on fire as she can feel the blush intensify. She looks down and hopes that her long, thick hair can cover her reddened cheeks.

"Do not hide your face." Long, thin fingers run along her jaw before tugging gently to lift her face up.

She can see now that the man, the _boy_, in front of her can't be much older than she is. Her timid fingers move to mimic his position as they find purchase along his strong jaw line. A quiet sign of acceptance, reassurance. He certainly is beautiful, but there is a certain innocence to his face, a boyish charm that still lingers.

"You have no idea how long I have waited for you," he murmurs, stepping closer so that Bella can _feel_ him, can feel the threads working furiously to stitch them together. Two souls into one. She's amazed at how well it seems their bodies fit together. Like they were made for one another.

"How long?" She traces his jaw, runs her thumb along his cheek, and can't stop staring at this perfect being before her.

He turns to press a kiss to her palm. The hand on her own jaw moves down to cup her neck and his other hand reaches up to hold her hand to his face. Every place he touches alights with a fire, a hint at what's to come.

"I died in 1918 from the Spanish Influenza."

"What's your name?"

He grins and pulls her hand from his cheek. "Edward Masen, so very pleased to finally meet you," he replies enthusiastically before brushing his lips along her knuckles.

She blushes again but doesn't duck her head. Instead, she nurses her bottom lip between her teeth until Edward runs his thumb along her lip. He's staring intently at her mouth and Bella clears her throat. Edward has the decency to look ashamed and a light flush creeps up his own neck. "Do I have the honor to know your name, beautiful?"

"I…uh…it's…Isabella. Bella for short," she stutters and then she kind of wants to crawl into a hole and die. Of course she has to sound like an idiot. Edward can introduce himself and flatter her without so much as a second thought and Bella ends up tripping over her words just as easily as she trips over her own feet.

But Edward doesn't seem to notice, or if he does, he doesn't really care. "Bella," Edward says, like he's testing how her name sounds as it rolls over his tongue. Bella really likes it when Edward says her name.

"Perfect," Edward murmurs after he says her name a few more times.

Bella can't stop looking at him and her eyes move furiously over every inch of his body, trying desperately to memorize what he looks like. Edward stops her when he moves his hand back up to cup her cheek.

"My dearest, Bella," he murmurs, leaning his forehead against hers. "We have all of eternity to memorize the perfection of one another." His crooked grin illuminates his features and Bella is dazzled into silence again. After a pause, he says, "And let me reassure you, you _are_ perfect."

Bella's hands slide down Edward's shirt and she can feel the contours of his body through the layer of clothing. Her fingers map the planes that she will later explore with her lips and tongue. She thinks she should be embarrassed by this train of thought, but she can't seem to muster up the proper amount of mortification. She's so attuned to his body already, to the pull of his muscles and the shuffle of his step that she feels her body subconsciously maneuvering itself to remain within touching distance.

He's so beautiful it's painful, and it seems like all Bella's done lately is cry but she's trying hard to hold back the tears again. This man was _made_ for her and she him. Before, she may have found it hard to believe that anyone as perfect as Edward Masen would find anything beautiful in the features of herself she's always found plain. But there's no use denying fate, or destiny, or whatever it is that's at work here. He was hers and she wasn't letting him go.

Edward interrupts her musings when he brushes his nose against hers. "May I kiss you, Bella? I have been waiting to kiss you for so long," he breathes.

She inhales sharply, watches how his long eyelashes flutter against his pale skin in anticipation, feels his grip on her face tighten a fraction of an inch, and spares not one more moment of hesitation. Her hands grab his shoulders and she uses this as leverage to push herself up and mold her lips to his.

It's her first kiss.

Even though she's dead, Bella can't seem to bring herself to care, because every cliché statement about how there should be fireworks? It is all wrong.

This is infinitely better.

Edward's hands are pulling at the back of her shirt, trying to move her in closer still, until there's not an inch between their bodies. Her lips are yielding and pliable beneath his and she's _finally_ running her hands through his soft bronze locks, fingers tangling and pulling him tight against her. She breaks the kiss with a gasp and she's sure she's looking at Edward with the same dazed expression that's currently plastered on his.

"Wow," he exhales before brushing his lips against hers again, softly, a lover's caress.

Bella swallows hard and nods in agreement. She's almost panting against his neck as she tries to catch her breath from that exhilarating kiss.

Edward leans back and looks at her with a look of unadulterated adoration. "You are mine," he whispers fiercely, brushing his lips against her temple.

"Always." The intensity of the declaration surprises her at first, but it feels _right_. She thinks of how this man is her soul-mate, the one person she is to spend the rest of eternity with and suddenly 'always' seems inadequate.

"Forever," Edward reaffirms. Then his serious face morphs into a wicked grin and he teases, "Can we do that again?"

Bella laughs and presses her lips to his once more for a few moments. "Later," she replies. "I want to know more about you."

His name and the year of his death isn't enough to satisfy the curiosity slowly simmering in the background of this perfect moment. She wants to know where he lived and what his favorite color is, his favorite hobbies. She wants to know every inconsequential detail that makes Edward Masen who he is and to discover how each little tidbit makes him even more perfect for her.

But the thought of eternity can be a little overwhelming and Bella panics. "What if we run out of things to talk about it? Do soul-mates ever get tired of one another?"

Edward kisses the pulse point on her neck and Bella can feel his lips lifting up into a smile. "I could never tire of you. And what if eternity is not long enough for the conversations I would like to have with you?"

"Conversations, huh?" Bella replies a little breathlessly.

His lips move to her jaw. "I could spend centuries telling you how beautiful I find you. In the short amount of time that we have been together already, I can see how perfect we are for one another. I don't see how I could have ever lived before you because I never want to spend another second without you."

"I'm ready, Edward," Bella says.

"Hmm?" he hums against the soft skin of her neck.

"To face the afterlife," she clarifies. "As long as you are by my side."

"Where else would I go?" he responds to reassure her. "You are my life now."

"Technically, you're dead," she giggles.

Edward shakes his head in mock exasperation and kisses her again, sucking gently on her bottom lip.

"Edward," she sighs against his lips.

He pulls back and looks at her lovingly, brushing a few strands of hair from her face. Bella thinks she can get used to this, to being treasured and adored, and her conviction strengthens.

"I'm ready," she says again.

"Onto eternity," Edward declares as he twines his fingers with hers and pulls her towards another door she hadn't noticed before. He glances down at her, giving her fingers a little squeeze and for the first time in her life, Bella feels whole. It is as if a part of her has been missing that she has never realized until it has been filled by _Edward_. She smiles brightly and squeezes his hand in return. The door swings open and Bella is momentarily blinded by the light coming from beyond. She hesitates for a few short pauses before she feels Edward give her a slight tug and together, they walk over the threshold.


End file.
